InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You're orange, you moron!"

ᴄᴏɴɴᴏʀ (cyberlife) wrote in theconsolelog,
@ 2018-06-19 23:24:00

Entry tags:

connor, hank anderson

WHO: Hank Anderson & Connor ~~The Android sent by Cyberlife~~
WHERE: New Leaf Village
WHEN: June 18th
WHAT: Blinking from one crazy world into a new one
WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN - And Hank will probably curse. He likes doing that.
STATUS: In-Progress

Androids had no real sense of time seeing as they didn't necessarily need to keep a schedule. Connor only had to allocate dates with evidence and instructions. But needless to say, the battle for Detroit had easily been the longest day Connor had ever witnessed. He had become deviant, opened his eyes, and apparently found what he was truly looking for. Along with aiding Markus in a peaceful rebellion to save their people most of the events seemed as though they should have been much more spaced out. Yet they happened all the same, he'd had no time to sit and analyze, try and come up with excuses for his actions or avoid the inevitable any longer.

And it felt good. It felt right. If he could say that he knew what that was supposed to feel like.

He did now know what it meant to be free of his programming, Amanda, and CyberLife. While the cause for androids was important, Connor wouldn't have been able to do anything or be anyone without Hank. When things were settled he took to meeting at Hank's favorite self-contaminating food stand, long since abandoned after the night had passed. Almost ghostly, yet peaceful. His friend was safe and that was what mattered to Connor. Had he seen him smile like that before? Not sarcastically or when he'd been trying to goad the presence of what Connor had been trying to deny for their entire investigation? Probably not. It made Connor smile too. One he didn't have to try and force for the sake of emoting, it just, pulled to the corners of his lips. Before he knew it his human companion had also yanked him against his shoulder, the android catching his balance and gripping Hank at first in mild confusion but returning the gesture more easily. A hug, a simple thing he'd seen humans do plenty of times but what did it really mean?

Connor closed his eyes but briefly, letting his head rest against Hank's shoulder--which smelled like whiskey and Sumo--and he let himself feel again. It was care. And Connor was thankful he meant more than just a machine or a means to an end to anyone. Especially Hank.

The feeling was short-lived as he opened his eyes again, blinking quickly, letting go of Hank and glancing around them. "What..where.." The LED on the side of his temple wound yellow as he ran a scan of their environment. He didn't need to in order to see they were no longer at The Chicken Feed. Or Detroit. It was not snowing, it was sunny, birds were chirping, things were green and the environment was lush with life. The sky was blue and in the distance, homes, a town center...talking animals. His scans only analyzed the name of the town and how many miles it spanned. It didn't make any sense. Connor tensed, briefly panicking that his emergency exit had failed and this was another program to trap his interface.

The familiar bark of a certain Saint Bernard beside them pulled the android from his recoil, but his LED was still red now. "Hank..do you know what's happening?" Connor looked at him hopefully, eyes uncharacteristically lively. He didn't want CyberLife to trick him into taking over his programming. But there was no way they could have gotten what they needed to simulate Hank and Sumo. Could they? "I'm trying to analyze our location but I've got no information on it. New...Leaf? Is the name of the area. Is this another district they were constructing?" That they...magically got to after hugging. With Hank's dog.

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temulency
2018-06-20 05:30 am UTC (link)

As a general rule, Hank didn't believe in happily-ever-after. The androids had won a significant battle; he couldn't help feeling there was still a war coming. People were too fond of bigotry. In some cases, hating someone they saw as 'other' was the only thing they could agree on. The red-blooded population would be the cause of commotion upon their return to the city. One didn't need preconstructing software to expect the DPD's phone lines blowing up with reports of violence. Some, they would be too late to break up without the loss of life.

But right here, right now, he felt relieved. Happy. Genuinely happy to see another human being for the first time in longer than he could remember. And yes, Connor had more than earned that distinction. His capacity for empathy was greater than most officers and politicians Hank knew. On their behalf, Hank felt ashamed. Hoped they would take a moment to re-evaluate their lives as he had.

Embracing Connor was a snap decision that likely surprised them both. Hank was the product of a bygone era and riddled with toxic masculinity as a result. Men don't hug. He let himself off with a mental warning because the gesture was part of his goodbye. Hank was taking Sumo to stay with an old fishing buddy outside of town. After some of the shit he'd seen, he figured he deserved a little vacation time as well. Connor had balls to bust (figuratively speaking) and heroic deeds in need of doing. What did he need with an old fart anymore?

He'd probably slow the kid down, if anything. Hank refused to become a liability again. Fool him once, shame on CyberLife's mass-production of Connors. Fool him six or more times...

On a normal day, the only thing behind the Chicken Feed were overflowing garbage cans. Connor wasn't the only one shocked to find it transformed into a cozy town center. "What kind of Disney theme park bullshit is this?" Needless to say, no, he didn't have answers for Connor. Pointing to an identical pair of mascots, he accused, "Is this another evil twin thing? I swear, if you try anything I will break a foot off so far up your -- hey! Don't run away while I'm talking to you!"

The raccoon brothers scattered in typical raccoon fashion. Sumo, having escaped through the open window of Hank's old jalopy, was quick to give chase. All that was missing was the Benny Hill music as Hank watched his dog harass his bi-pedal brethren.

"Four legs good, two legs bad," quoted Hank from Animal Farm. He assumed Connor's fancy computer brain would be able to spot the reference. "Don't trust anyone here as far as you can throw 'em, understood?"

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cyberlife
2018-06-20 03:36 pm UTC (link)

Connor watched the two creatures scurry away, regarding Sumo's wagging tail as he gave chase what humans would normally regard as pests. He managed to scan them before they got away and again. His data had nothing for him. That meant that there was no data for him to pull, or that his scanner was broken. He did a quick scan of Sumo to be sure. No, his scanner was not broken, thankfully.

"Well, they don't seem to be carrying rabies if he does manage to catch them..." As Hank cursed them away with his usual abrasive behavior, one Connor thought was appropriate at this given time, the android blinked in confusion, head tilting ever slightly as the Saint Bernard chased the odd raccoons. That had on aprons. He was certain that those animals were supposed to be quadrupeds and not wear clothing. Then again, he was supposed to just be a machine, and not have the ability to feel empathy. It was very hard to understand things in a proper working order. Though Connor learned that nothing about the world was proper or in working order, and that's how things functioned. Perhaps it was no different here.

He blinked back up to Hank, his LED returning to blue as he nodded that he was paying attention. "Understood." Unfortunately, Connor's fancy brain was only programmed with the conditions of his model--and that was to aide in police investigation, and adapt to the world around him. He had no stored data on video games or popular culture and did not know what Animal Farm was. "Um, Hank? Don't we have two legs?" He didn't want to question the lieutenant, who didn't particularly care for that, but it was only an observation on the quote. He wasn't being a smart ass, he just genuinely didn't understand.

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temulency
2018-06-20 05:45 pm UTC (link)

"But we're not animals!" Hank defended too loudly. "Well, I am. Maybe. If you believe that descended from monkeys crap ... just don't talk back to me right now, alright? We've got work to do," he concluded in his customary tone of exasperation. Connor probably didn't appreciate how childlike he was at times. He could face a crazed gunman without batting a synthetic eyelash. But present him with a common sense command? You might as well have asked to jump off the Ambassador Bridge for no good reason. Simplicity did not compute.

Cole used to pull that 30 questions shit way too early in the morning. At least he could swear in front of Connor without feeling like a giant sack of shit.

Hank managed to catch Sumo by the collar. Spent the next few minutes walking at an uncomfortable angle. Finally, he passed the dog to Connor whose spine was presumably less prone to herniated discs. Everyone he managed to stop and talk to had more or less the same things to say. 'Welcome to New Leaf Village! You should visit Mayor Isabelle!' Their script refused to change even when he informed them of the citywide evacuation still in effect by order of the President of the United-Fucking-States. Okay, so he hadn't voted for her. That didn't erase the fact that President Warren's authority placed higher than whoever this Isabelle person was.

"You're in Detroit. You have to leave." Hank had resorted to short sentences with a special emphasis on the words he felt were most important. There was no way these costumed people could misunderstand. And yet, the owl person he was speaking to blinked owlishly at him. Funny that.

"Welcome to New Leaf --"

"Jesus Christ, I'm going to have an aneurysm," Hank interrupted. Eyes squinting shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Breathed in, held it for ten seconds, and then breathed out. He'd been looking into anger management exercises. On the inside, he was still angry but slightly less prone to punching someone right in their giant head. "The circus freaks have spoken. Sounds like we're gonna need to speak with their leader. It's your turn at bat, kid." Translation: please commence with your high-tech sleuthing before Hank got hostile with the locals.

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cyberlife
2018-06-20 06:42 pm UTC (link)

"Sorry." Connor apologized quickly, hoping it might calm Hank down a little. Though he wasn't exactly at ease himself. He hadn't meant to 'talk back'. He would have to figure out a different approach to better understanding certain analogies in the future that didn't make Hank think he was undermining him. That would have to wait for now. As Hank bravely spoke with the animals he'd just said not to trust, Connor gently yet firmly took Sumo's collar to pull him into the shade. The dog's temperature had gone very high and while he had an impressive double coat that both insulated him from the cold and kept him cool in the heat, the dog should stay out of the sun until they could find him some water. There were several instances where he wanted to speak up and suggest perhaps a different approach--the animals he kept scanning as Hank flailed at them didn't seem to be privy to their dilemma. Everything was 'normal' to them, this was their home. He pet Sumo gently as the pup whined and wagged his tail--his owner unfairly playing with the creatures.

Connor did some more analyzing. Moreso of the device that was now tucked into his jacket, along with some currency he no longer had. Using his mind, as he no longer needed to touch things to hack them, he scanned the device quickly to find that it was a communications device. A network for everyone who lived here. They were not the only ones who were not natives. And, apparently, this was not the only odd land. Connor continued the conversation over the network within his mind as he stood to his feet, watching Hank deflate. He could do both. "Try taking a look at the device we've been given. I scanned it a little while you were..speaking with the locals. Apparently we're not the only ones pulled here. It's an entire communications network."

Giving Sumo one last pat, the Android scanned the center around them for their 'leader'. He assumed the 'Mayor' title that showed up in front of the yellow dog looking lady meant Isabelle was this leader. Connor tried a warm approach, explaining the situation to her as best he could. Unfortunately, while Isabelle was very polite, she didn't seem to understand what he was talking about.

There didn't seem to be a hint of knowledge of Detroit, or anything outside of their own world. "They don't know anything. All they know is this town, and their day to day. Nothing outside of it." He reported back solemnly, but kept his eyes open and alert as he scanned around them. The data was so inconclusive and utterly lacking. "But the others on the network might. I scanned that many have arrived without consent like us going though entries as far back as three or so weeks. Not all or any others from Detroit. There are other areas. This area spans a total of 16.6 miles. And apparently, it's advised to stay away from any place with a fog."

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temulency
2018-06-21 06:55 pm UTC (link)

For all his bluff and bluster, Hank wasn't too upset to have Connor take the lead. It didn't mean he was obsolete or that Connor was better at all things due to his programming. The concept of Good Cop vs. Bad Cop was even older than Hank. When one approach didn't work, you switched gears and tried something else. It was only unfortunate that Connor didn't get anything more useful from Isabelle. Hank awarded him secret points for trying, regardless.

The device to have materialized in his coat pocket was familiar in a way. Its aesthetic reminded Hank of toys from his childhood -- the good ol' 80s. Best decade. Hands down. Anyone who disagreed was a moron. Surprisingly, it possessed functionality that was much closer to modern day smartphones. Hank was guilty of claiming they were 'too smart for him,' in the way most people over 50 were prone to do. When the first couple of button presses didn't earn the results he wanted, Hank resorted to banging it against his open palm. There was no problem he couldn't solve by hitting it.

"Goddammit! All I wanted to do was send an e-mail to Fowler! Is that so fucking hard?" he yelled into the tiny green screen. Giving up with a grunt, he settled for raking a hand through shaggy hair. "What are we supposed to do now, dress in costume and sing Kumbaya? That's sarcasm, by the way. Don't you dare start singing," he warned Connor. Spotting a quaint fountain in the middle of the cobblestone path ahead, he whistled for Sumo to join them. It wasn't the sort of thing most people wanted contaminated by dog saliva, but it was the best he could do for now. Those who objected were welcome to kiss the fattest part of his ass.

As Sumo drank, he admitted, "I'm running on steam here. So we either A) find a stand with the strongest, blackest coffee there is. Or B) Sumo and I need a place to bed down until we can make sense of all this. I don't suppose we can retrace our steps and pretend we didn't see shit? It ain't like anyone back at the precinct would believe us, anyway."

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cyberlife
2018-06-21 07:32 pm UTC (link)

Sarcasm. The use of irony to mock or convey contempt. By definition one would assume it could be easily spotted but since Hank laced it so intricately with his lexicon, most of the time Connor couldn’t discern what he was trying to do. Most usually, insults. He had learned this was how Hank relieves stress, and he was appreciative that it was not directed at him. He took a seat beside Hank at the edge of the fountain, he couldn’t help but smile at his companion’s demeanor. Or the fact he thought Connor could sing. “Don’t worry, that’s not part of my programming. I don’t know how to sing.”

But he could learn, very easily. Not that it would help them right now.

“Finding someplace safe would be ideal. I’m sure coffee can be attained too.” Connor was less certain about the coffee but he needed to placate Hank for now. “I’m afraid that if I reconstruct our steps, it only reflects from the moment we found ourselves here.” He was already scanning the buildings for sustenance, or coffee. Hank needed some good news for the moment. The Android excused himself for a moment to find one of the shops he’d scanned and get Hank a coffee from some very friendly cats, using some of the coins that had appeared.

Connor returned promptly with the coffee, which he had already scanned to make sure of its contents to be sure, he offered it to Hank. “The network recommends here or a more modern area called Cerulean City as ‘safe’. Since the two legged animals aren’t to be trusted, maybe we should try to find the city?”

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i'm using silly mechanics from AC:NL here. can edit the tag if they don't fit

temulency
2018-06-23 03:11 am UTC (link)

Hank should have paced himself with the coffee. Hell, he should've paused long enough to utter a thank you. Instead, he chugged the cup's contents as fast as he was able. Like taking a cold shower after a bender, he felt convinced it would sweep away the mental cobwebs. Help him get a better grip on the situation.

Imagine his disappointment when reaching the bottom left him no better off. They were still in the middle of nowhere surrounded by bobble-headed creatures. Cerulean City sounded promising -- and very blue -- but 16.6 miles was a lot to traverse. At 3 miles per hour, it would take him 20 minutes to clear a mile. 20 times 16 was 320, divided by 60 was ...

Fuck math. Point being, Hank wasn't making that long a trip in a day. Not without a car. And from the looks of it, New Leaf was the kind of place where everyone walked everywhere. Scoffing at Connor, he admitted, "I'm not making it that far unless you piggy-back me. That's an indignity we could both do without."

So it would seem they were stuck here until Hank's proverbial battery had a chance to recharge. And yet, there were no traces of an inn among the varied storefronts. No bed and breakfast. Not a dingy motel in the bunch. Surely, even cute animal people needed someplace to do the horizontal tango. Nook's Homes was the closest approximation to what they needed but Hank dragged his heels over the idea of going inside. Real estate was a hassle he never again wanted to face. His piece-of-shit home back in Detroit was already paid off; that was good enough for him.

Unable to hold back any longer, Hank succumbed to his baser instincts. Allowed frustration to guide his balled fist toward the nearest tree. It shivered from the force of his blow. Who knew Hank was still that strong?

From its branches fell a large leaf. Once it hit the ground, it transformed into a sloppy sofa. Very Hank-like in style. It was already strewn with laundry and came complete with an open bag of potato chips. Two birds, one stone. Food and a place to rest his head all from a single act of violence. Whoever said it never solved anything was a dope.

At a total loss for words otherwise, he settled for staring at it with both hands on hips. Never mind his freshly bloodied knuckles. "Huh. You don't see every day."

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I had no idea it could do that xD I think it’s cool as long as we don’t abuse it

cyberlife
2018-06-23 03:52 am UTC (link)

“Oh that’s...hot.” Connor was too late to try and warn Hank, watching him slam back the warm drink like it was water. That coffee was 195 degrees Fahrenheit, 91 degrees Celsius. He’d watched him drink alcohol in the same manner, and if he didn’t know better, he would think the tastebuds or sensitivity in the back of his throat were gone. Alarming, and concerning. He would have to make sure Hank stayed hydrated too.

Needless to say, he didn’t know what a piggy back was. He could volunteer to make the run over into the next town—he was exceptionally fast and wouldn’t get tired. But Connor wasn’t about to leave Hank alone in this weird world. Even with Sumo.

Surely there was a place for them to stay, the woman over the Network held no benefit in lying to him. But the android let his friend vent out his frustrations with a solemn expression, the corners of his mouth turning down. Hank had always been abraisive but by now he thought he could predict him well enough. Apparently not. “Hank...” Connor scanned Hank’s knuckles and wrist for injury: slight abrasion, no hemorrhage or break. “I understand this is confusing and upsetting at the very least..” He was going to ask him, very politely, to stop with the self destructive behavior. It was bad for him. And it made Connor upset, his LED turning yellow again.

But the fact that a leaf had fallen and materialized into objects had stopped him. Reaching out to touch it instead of scanning, feeling the fiber of the furniture and smelling the laundry? This was something that did not compute. “This is incredible. Physical inanimate objects made from a former biological specimen?” Leaves from trees were alive. How they could turn into a couch...he didn’t know. “Maybe we should try the town. Ignore the residents and just look for a quiet place.” He didn’t trust falling couches. Though now Hank could punch the cushions instead if he felt so inclined.

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temulency
2018-06-27 07:06 pm UTC (link)

In Hank's opinion, the couch looked pretty damn inviting. It was as good a place as any to get in a couple of winks. Connor didn't need rest as far as Hank knew; he could stand guard with Sumo to keep him company. Problem solved. Hank would be ready for a bit of a hike by the time he'd slept off his most recent bought of crankiness --

The flicker of yellow in Connor's temple caused guilt to wash over him. He was glad Connor hadn't removed it, actually. The android's face remained impassive even when he was expressing deviant thoughts. Hank wouldn't know what he was feeling half the time if not for the helpful color-coding of his LED. To make it go yellow or red was akin to tripping over his dog in the middle of the night and eliciting a pained whimper. A minor transgression in the grand scheme of things, but enough to make Hank feel like shit.

As such, Hank overcompensated with kindness the same as he would if he'd kicked Sumo by accident. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say," he relented for once. Though, it wouldn't stop him from claiming the opened bag of chips and stuffing a handful into his mouth. Uncultured as always, he spoke between obnoxious crunches. "I shouldn't have to tell you that what you're describing is squatting. This was your bright idea, Connor. You get to deal with the local PD if they're called to kick us out." Miniature pink pigs in police uniforms. It was such an amusing mental image, he kind of wanted to see it come true.

What few chips Hank didn't eat, he flicked over his shoulder like the fabled breadcrumbs of Hansel and Gretel. Of course, it didn't help that Sumo was keen to gobble up the trail he was leaving. New Leaf struck him as the kind of place with only as many homes as there were people living there. It wasn't a thriving commercial hub with high-rise apartment complexes on every corner. Most of which were too expensive for its impoverished citizens to afford. Hank doubted their ability to find anything for the night, but he wasn't eager to rain on Connor's parade. Not after everything they'd been through.

Give it 24 hours. Then the storm clouds that comprised Hank's usually foul mood would roll back in with a vengeance. "There's a tent up ahead. I don't think we're gonna do much better than that," Hank wheezed. Man, he was out of shape. This was his last bag of chips, he swore. Maybe. Probably. Okay, so he was lying to himself. What didn't kill him supposedly made him stronger.

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hope the time skip is acceptable!

cyberlife
2018-06-27 07:55 pm UTC (link)

True, Connor was still learning to emote properly. Part of his original programming did not come with a standard model that was more suitable for a household, dealing with a family and people in a regular setting--but cops. Not reflecting much emotion wasn't needed for an android that was supposed to solve investigations. But when things troubled him, when he was...afraid, that was slowly slipping through onto his face.

At least he was able to smile now with renewed confidence that Hank wasn't about to just sit on a couch and hope for the best. 11-14 calories per chip, is what Hank was currently digesting. But Connor kept his mouth shut, shaking his head and sitting beside him on the couch. "I didn't mean squatting." Alright, so stealing all of the androids from the Cyberlife headquarters wasn't legal. Killing those guards in the tower was not legal. But those were special circumstances, and Connor did not want to die. Freeing people was a special circumstance.

But he wouldn't break the common law and squat. He looked over to the tent that Hank mentioned, the corners of his lips turning down and even his brows furrowing this time. No. Not the tent.

"We can do better." Hank was armed. The locals in this town were not attacking them on site. He had over a 90% chance of survivability, especially with Sumo relaxing there, and it seemed as though the lieutenant was content there with his artery clogging excuse for food. His friend wasn't a statistic, but he did trust he could take care of himself. Connor could be quick, and he could be efficient. The android pushed himself up off of the couch, adjusting his jacket, his tie was gone but he did like his jacket...even if it did say his model number and Android on it. "You go ahead and rest, I'll figure this out." He did take Hank's device, the skin on his hand fading away to reveal the real white plastic-like material as he interfaced with the technology, hacking it, to make it...Hank-friendly. Mostly easy to contact him. Seemingly pleased with himself, Connor handed the device back to his friend, his skin fading back into place as he stood to his full height. "Call me if something happens. But I'll return shortly..."

An hour or two later and Connor had fully analyzed and explored the town for what it was. The citizens of New Leaf were intelligent, animal creatures that thrived on building, planting, clothing, and fishing. Very similar to other civilizations. He'd found that he could in fact secure them a stay at the local inn in return for coins, or labor. Because the android was so fast, he had no problem procuring favors, and more coins. And a relatively comfortable room for Hank, Sumo, and himself at the Inn. It had odd furnishings and touches, but nothing dangerous. Almost too cheery for Hank's demeanor. Connor had even procured more water. This time in bottles, some fruit, vegetables, and a few meal trays. Burgers, pizza, and donuts were available but he avoided those. Sushi, tacos, steamed meat, those were much more healthier options.

They didn't have to trust the animals. But Connor thought they traded well. And the dwellings would work for now. Though he could tell Hank was critical. "See? Much better than a tent. They're very willing to work out a bartering system....and surprisingly talented with building things." At least Hank and Sumo had an indoors, sustenance, and Connor could keep an eye on them while they rested and he learned more. "They even had books. Real ones." He thought Hank might like those.

His desire for Hank's approval was very important. But Connor assumed because Hank was his first close relationship and he would unquestionably give his life for him, and Hank had shown him what it was to be 'human', this was normal. No one else was teaching him humanity after all. Or...anything. Hank had taught him much, and that was special to Connor.

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robot son makes grinch's heart grow 3 sizes in one day. news at 11

temulency
2018-06-28 05:29 am UTC (link)

Connor wasn't wrong to assume Hank would remain skeptical upon is return. In Hank's experience, anything that seemed too good to be true usually was. That's how credit cards got charged after a so-called free trial ran out. And like most people over the age of fifty, Hank had never owned a laptop without downloading a virus or two (dozen). It didn't matter how innocuous something looked at first glance. There was always the potential for it to do harm.

But he was trying so damn hard. It was admirable how the world kept knocking Connor for a loop, and he kept coming back for more. Hank almost wanted to inspect the room Connor had procured for hidden cameras or death traps. Even so, he said nothing of his reservations. Both Sumo and Connor were content with their new lodgings and that was good enough for Hank. For now, at least.

The way Connor looked at him reminded Hank so much of Cole it hurt. Of having to pretend to like some God-awful crayon drawing or macaroni art. Was the room too bright and colorful? Hell yes. Did he feel like the rug would be pulled out from under them at any moment? You're goddamn right he did! But it was as his ex-wife used to say. A little positive reinforcement could go a long way.

"I'm all outta gold star stickers, but you did good." Hank substituted a shiny reward by patting Connor on the shoulder in passing. Wasting no time making himself comfortable, he toed out of his battered loafers. His jacket came off next, flung in the direction of the nearest chair. It missed and landed messily on the floor. "You mentioned folks have been stuck here for almost a month. We're getting to the bottom of this, you mark my words."

Hank's earlier fatigue hadn't diminished. But once he got rolling, it was hard to switch off his detective instincts. "We'll start asking around in the morning. In person," he emphasized. "None of this network bullshit. There's gotta be some correlation somewhere. A way back home. I didn't work this damn hard to enter a forced retirement in some knock-off Disneyland resort." Following a thoughtful pause, he concluded, "You've got a lot on your plate too. Markus wouldn't have made it without you."

If you loved something, you had to prepare yourself to let it go. Connor would benefit from the company of his fellow androids. There was only so much a grizzled old cop could teach. And considering Connor's ability to download the latest information, his knowledge was negligible.

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for the weather at 12, chance of small storms with robot son not wanting to go to android camp, dad

cyberlife
2018-06-28 03:17 pm UTC (link)

It would have been unnecessary to look for bugs or threats within their room. Connor of course had been thorough, but he understood Hank's need for double checking. He would have told him that the animals of this town had little to no electronic devices, save for televisions and the like, they were not so advanced. But it was unimportant. The compliment was important, and Connor relished in it, even if he didn't understand why he would need a golden sticker. A sarcastic implication, most likely. All the same, the contact and the words made Connor smile again, watching Hank make himself comfortable. Eyes following his movements and gestures as Connor nodded in agreement. "If there was a way here, then there is a way back. Someone will know something and we'll piece it together." Just like they did back home. He wasn't lying when he said he enjoyed working with Hank, they made a great team. All entrances had doors after all, and doors opened both ways, they'd figure it out.

Out of habit and because Connor was just tidy, he took Hank's jacket and let it hang nicely on one of the wooden anchors on the wall. After a short consideration, he decided to try and take off his own jacket, placing it on the other, eyes running over the glint of his titled uniform, and indication of what he was--or supposed to be. It odd only for a moment but definitely more comfortable. As nice as his jacket was.

"Markus?" He questioned, turning around to face Hank curiously. What did helping Markus have to do with going back home? He had a lot on his 'plate'. An analogy for being busy, he decided. Did Hank presume he was too busy for him now? "Markus was successful because he led a peaceful protest that won over public opinion and pressured the decision makers. I only freed the remaining androids from CyberLife...but I don't understand what that has to do with finding a way home."

The android folded his arms over his chest, holding his side and elbows as he thought. A mannerism not in programming. Something he did when troubled, like back at the park in the snow. "You are assuming I'm eager to get back to the other androids. But I'm not." He shook his head for emphasis. He didn't want to leave Hank. Connor was still understanding the freedom and implications of 'wants' now. He had few: be alive and free, be with his friend, find out who he was, really. "I helped him because it was the right thing to do and those androids deserved to be free. But now I don't have any other purpose or mission. I don't have any other place to be, Hank."

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temulency
2018-07-03 09:07 pm UTC (link)

"Don't start with that modesty crap, alright?" Hank issued a derisive snort. "Markus was about to have his ass handed to him on a platter. Showing up with reinforcements played a bigger part in turning things around than you're giving it credit for." President Warren's change of heart certainly helped. But Hank's years on the force put him in contact with more than a few dirty cops. Men like Gavin, whose prejudices took control over their actions.

News footage had shown that Markus and his ragtag resistance were surrounded. It was all well and good that they broke out into a special episode of Glee. Hank didn't doubt there was a soldier among them whose finger itched to take the shot in spite of orders to stand down. Neither did he doubt they could've gotten away with it. Servicemen were given a badge of heroism by default. To question it was to put your own patriotism under the microscope.

So, yeah, Markus had won over the people like so many bright revolutionaries before him. That didn't make him bulletproof. Given his natural pessimism, Hank could imagine many scenarios where violence came out on top. Connor's arrival with at least half a million friends in tow was more than enough to cool the jets of a trigger-happy hothead.

Putting up both hands in a disarming gesture, he conceded, "I can't tell you what to do anymore. All I'm saying is, you should think about rubbing elbows with andr -- with your peers. It's like when a kid goes off to college. Being on your own is scary at first, but then you smoke a blunt and set a couple of hot plates on fire by accident. Experiences like that help build character. You shouldn't pass 'em up just to sit with me and listen to my arteries harden." That was it for the day. Hank's Pez dispenser of pseudo-fatherly advice had run out.

Flopping onto the couch, he let his eyes close. Ten fingers laced over his beer gut; his feet propped on the coffee table. Hank's socks had long since ceased being white, having adopted a dingy gray color instead. His right big toe peeked out of a considerable hole. The portrait of class and sophistication, he was not. "I'll tell you something else that's going on our to-do list," he yawned. "We're getting you some clothes that don't glow in the dark. And a tattoo. Hell, a red Sharpie would suffice. Somethin' I can mark you with just in case you've got any more evil twin brothers running around. I don't have the patience for another game of Trivial Pursuit."

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cyberlife
2018-07-07 02:46 am UTC (link)

Actually, Markus could have been easily killed if he'd done the wrong thing. He and the remaining deviants, and those who were still in camps were surrounded. Connor's arrival would have merely added pressure, and possibly only continued more bloodshed, since he would not try to harm anyone either. Regardless. Connor did not want Markus' position or any position of merit amongst the androids. He would offer all the help and his resources as he could, but he was still...very much different from the rest of them. Save for Markus, who was also an RK prototype.

Feeling a little frustrated with Hank's answer, Connor might have huffed if he knew what that was, instead he merely listened with a frown, arms folded and his led light circling yellow as he analyzed it all internally. He understood Hank's analogy. But a human child who was being sent off to college already had several years of experience being alive. Even school and parental figures for several years to teaching on how to become a productive member of society. One that did not smoke or set hot plates on fire. The closest thing Connor had to all of that was his data on psychology, analysis, and his personal experiences with Hank. The closest thing he had to family. But the android didn't want to fight, and Hank was tired. So he reserved the very long winded, analytical answer he had in store.

He couldn't sigh, so he deflated on the couch beside his friend. "I can build character and also make sure that your arteries don't harden." Connor contended, looking over to what should have been an uncomfortable position, Sumo already snugly snoozing in the corner of the room. "There's a bed, you know." Just pointing that out there. In case Hank wanted to be comfortable. But Connor looked down to his white button down and realized it could be considered a bit formal. He was, unfortunately, no longer a part of the Detroit police. Maybe someday he would be allowed to be again.

"Different clothes might be...nice." He tried to be open to the idea, though the only time he wore different clothing was a disguise to fit in. Connor had no idea what he would like to wear that was not his suit jacket and tie. His face did contort some at the idea of being drawn on with a sharpie. "They don't have access to my programming or current memory anymore, but that's fair. Maybe something else other than the marker though..."

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temulency
2018-07-08 05:37 am UTC (link)

There was no good reason to resist Connor's suggestion of relocating to the bed. Nothing except for Hank's tendency to punish himself whenever possible. He wasn't stupid; he knew sleeping on the couch would leave him sore and stiff-necked. It didn't matter. He was already here. The aches and pains would motivate him to wake up that much sooner, he figured. They had a lot of ground to cover in the morning.

"A new hair do might do the trick. Piercings. Jewelry," Hank rattled off, only half serious. That's when an idea came to him. On his person were three relics of bygone eras. His high school class ring, a gold chain given by his ex-wife, and a fine Swedish timepiece. The Rolex had cost him almost four grand, but he considered it a sound investment. Back then, his future seemed brighter. There was more disposable income to throw around.

According to the dealer, the watch would only lose one second every decade. Hank was certain it would last his lifetime. And once he was gone, it looked nice enough to warrant passing on. Someday, he'd hoped his son would wear it.

Sleepily fumbling the clasp open, Hank offered it without looking at Connor. No sense getting all mushy about the gesture. They were only looking for practical means of quick identification in a pinch. It wasn't that big a deal. Ahem. "I realize you don't need help telling the time," Hank explained. "But that's what make it kinda funny. When in Rome, dress as the Romans do." Hank's version of the old adage was all wrong, but the corners of his mouth quirked into a smile regardless. "I've got my phone and that weird ass device that showed up when we got here. Don't worry about me needing it. I forget the damn thing on my nightstand half the time, anyway."

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cyberlife
2018-07-11 12:37 am UTC (link)

Ah, he was joking. Right? Connor didn't think he would like the intrusion of a piercing into his skin. Though he supposed his hair could change. The normally sleeked back synthetic hair, save for that one pesky bang had loosened up into a few. He ran his fingers through it, letting his hair part where it wanted and the bangs fall around his face. Imperfection was...better, in a way.

Connor stared in surprised when Hank offered him the watch. His watch. It looked expensive. "Hank, I can't accept--" Oh he thought he'd tell him he didn't need to keep track of time. Well, Hank was right, but the android didn't know what it was to receive a gift.

Until now. Another analogy--dress like the Roman's do. Dress like...a person. Reaching out, still unsure, Connor took the watch and placed it on his wrist. He stared at it in awe. The old, hardboiled detective may have hid in the reasoning of giving him something to distinguish him by. But it was much more than that. It was the first thing that Connor would own that would be his. And his very first gift, given to him by his only friend. It was very, very special. His fingers traced over the edges and links to the watch, a smile pulling to his face. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it." He contended to respond simply, as Hank had done enough 'explaining' as to why Connor should have the watch in the first place.

But he watched his father figure of a human smile, his own mirroring it with as much life as Connor could muster. Not wanting to keep him up any longer, he got up from the couch, patting Hank gently on the shoulder. "I hope you sleep well. I'll keep watch, you just relax." And he would. As soon as Hank would drift into a REM cycle, Connor would adjust him to lay properly against the cushions of the couch, covering him with a throw blanket so he would be comfortable and not stiff in the morning. He would then spend the rest of the night reading some of the books in the room, his hand holding the watch protectively here and there.

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